


Initial Inflation

by Transformationstuck Mod E (tfstuck)



Series: Roseberry [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Blueberries, Body Dysphoria, Dysphoria, F/F, Inflation, Masturbation, POV Second Person, Sexual Fantasy, Transformation, blueberry inflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 09:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10487853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfstuck/pseuds/Transformationstuck%20Mod%20E
Summary: Anonymous asked: could one of the mods possibly write a story based on before the rose blueberry submission? specifically, rose swelling into a blueberry girl?You hate your life.One day you're a perfectly normal human girl, and then the next most of your bodily fluids have been replaced with blueberry juice and your skin is flushed blue. You despise it. You want your old body back. You want the sheer, unbridled sorrow that fills you every time you awaken and see your body to juststop.You just want to be normal. Is that so much to ask?But you can't change the past; you have to make do with what you have. And Kanaya is determined to make you feel comfortable in your new form in any way she can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Read on Tumblr](http://transformationstuck.tumblr.com/post/156207259249/could-one-of-the-mods-possibly-write-a-story-based)

“And so, through taking control over the lead hoofbeast, the ancient troll became the leader of the herd, and tamed many for the price of one. This continued over the course of centuries, until finally the hoofbeast was domesticated. The military and economic advantage this gave to the early troll civilizations that managed this feat cannot be overstated…”

You snuggle up to your matesprit, sighing contentedly. It’s interesting learning about troll history, but you can’t help but be distracted by how nice of a pillow Kanaya’s breasts make.

“Rose,” Kanaya says, grabbing your attention.

“Mmm?” you respond.

“Rose this is important context that is necessary to fully grasp contemporary Alternian society. These early differences were amplified over time and ultimately led to the complete dominance of Her Imperious Condescension over the entire planet and beyond. So please,” she sighs, “try to pay more attention to this important history and less to my rumblespheres.”

“There’s no reason why I can’t pay attention to the film while resting my head upon you, Kanaya. It’s not even multitasking, really.”

“I will rewind this tape if I have to,” she warns.

Alright, you’ll prove you can pay attention. ““Societies that had access to domesticated hoofbeats had a platform for carrying goods around other than sheer troll-power. This left more individuals free to”” – you pause to cough slightly – ““-pursue…””

“Okay fine,” she concedes, “you may rest your head upon my chest, but I will be watching you.”

“Actually, pause the video a moment. I need to use the bathroom.”

Kanaya does just that, and you move to stand up. You almost fall over immediately, only staying upright by grabbing onto one arm of the couch. That’s strange; you feel heavier than normal.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, her tone suddenly shifting to one of concern.

“I don’t know,” you respond, worried. “Wait here a minute.”

You waddle over to the door to the corridor, very careful in your steps. You’re not used to this strange balance, so you’re taking no chances, especially since the bathroom is a good 25 meters away.

As you walk down the corridor, things start shifting from being slightly off to worryingly off. Your clothes feel tighter, especially around your waist; every time you take a step you can head liquid sloshing around, and it feels like you’re getting heavier and heavier every second.

You push open the bathroom door and look into the mirror.

You were right. You’re remarkably more bloated than you were even a minute ago, your waist growing larger even as you watch it. This alone would be cause for alarm, but it’s not what tips you over the edge.

No, what tips you over the edge is the fact that your face is fucking _blue_.

You scream.

You touch your face, just to make sure you’re not hallucinating. Your hand is blue, too. You frantically lift up your dress. Your legs and belly are blue, too.

You close your eyes and make a concerted effort to calm yourself down. Panicking will get you nowhere; you need to stay rational and in control.

Kanaya bursts through the bathroom door, chainsaw in hand. When she sees you, she almost drops it.

“What-” she begins.

“I don’t know!” you interrupt, your voice shaky and lacking consistent inflexion. “I don’t know what’s happening to me! I was fine mere minutes ago but now- now-”

“Rose,” Kanaya says forcefully. “Rose focus on my voice.”

You do. You try to block out the _wrong_ feelings emanating from your body; try to ignore how you’re getting heavier, larger, rounding out, and turning bluer by the second.

You shut your eyes tightly and let out a whimper.

“Is this anything like the grimdark episode?” she asks.

You shake your head.

“So a God Tier resurrection probably won’t help.”

You hear the chainsaw rev down and become silent, the only sound filling your ears that of sloshing liquid and your own straining garments. You can feel the expansion accelerating, now affecting your upper body as well as your belly. It’s getting harder and harder to move your arms, and you feel your feet leave the ground as your belly pushes downwards. You try to look over at Kanaya, but it’s very hard to move your neck now. You feel your skin stretch and stretch and stretch, feeling like you could pop at any moment…

And then the inflation stops.

You open your eyes. You’re still facing the mirror.  Your entire body looks like one round ball, barring tiny imperfections where your limbs and head are. Your god tier dress is bunched up around your neck and your undergarments have snapped, leaving you almost completely naked. 

And every square inch of skin is a deep, deep blue.

You shut your eyes again.

“Um. Okay,” Kanaya says, stunned. “I guess that is a thing that just happened.”

A few seconds of silence permeate the air, leaving you both anxious.

“So what now?” she inquires.

“Get it out…” you say, weakly.

Kanaya tilts her head to the side questioningly.You look over at her and repeat yourself more forcefully.

“The liquid. Get it out.” ****

She blinks.

“Yes that would be a logical place to start”, she says. “But we can’t do it here, there is not enough drainage.”

She’s right. All you’d end up with here is a bathroom full of a strange fluid, and even in your current inflated state, you can see that she has a point. None of you know what this stuff is; it could be dangerous, or transmit your condition.

“Can you move at all?” she asks.

“Kanaya,” you begin, exasperatedly, “my legs have been almost entirely subsumed by this massive stomach. I’m sure you can take a stab at the answer yourself.”

She pauses. “Well it’s good to see that your sense of humor is intact at least,” she remarks.

Kanaya leans back against the sink, her eyes constantly roaming over your body. Your body. It’s still hard to believe that this is a thing that’s really happening.

“We could just roll you,” she says suddenly.

“… Roll me?”

“Like a ball, yes.”

…

You start laughing. It’s just… it’s just so absurd. You’re in a shape that can be rolled around, and doing so is a thing that’s seriously being discussed. Azure tears start escaping your eyes and rolling down your face, pooling at the bottom of the small pit in your inflated body created by your head.

“Oh my god,” you say between laugh-sobs. “Like a ball…”

You want so, so much to bury your face in your hands, to give yourself that little bit of protection from the world, no matter how psychological it may be; but your current state doesn’t even afford you that luxury. You’re completely exposed, helpless and vulnerable, at the complete mercy of another.

But.

Kanaya starts stroking your belly, looking up at you with such concern, worry, and love. Kanaya; your beautiful, loving matesprit; the light of your life in more ways than one. If there was anyone you could trust to help you now, it would be her.

And that gives you hope.

You take a few seconds to compose yourself, fighting to suppress the hiccups threatening to escape you.

“Okay,” you say, softly, as if part of you hopes she doesn’t hear. “Do it.”

Kanaya’s eyes fill with pure, unbridled determination.

She pulls out her chainsaw, revs it up, and goes about widening the doorway. The noise is nearly deafening, but you can’t put your hands over your ears, so you’ll just have to endure it.

Eventually she finishes, and the chainsaw dies down. She’s cut a roughly circular hole around where the door used to be, just barely going above your eye-level.

“Are you ready?” she asks, concerned.

You pause for a moment and take a deep breath. “… As I’ll ever be.” ****

Kanaya leans up and gives you a small kiss on the cheek, before moving around to get ready to push you. You smile a little, and mouth a silent “thanks” at the reassuring gesture.

She pushes you and you start rolling, head-over-feet, towards the hole. The fluid inside you starts moving too, trying to pool towards the floor. You can’t really describe how it feels – nothing else in your experiences so far compares to it, for obvious reasons – all you can really pin down is that it feels decidedly _off_.

You come to a rest in the middle of the hallway, having finished rotating at about 90 degrees from where you started, your head positioned as if you were lying down on your side. Kanaya moves around your gigantic, bulbous form, and starts pushing you sideways, with your head now on the rotation axis. This, at least, is something your brain can deal with; it’s almost the same as when you rolled down hills as a toddler, except now your head’s a meter off the ground.

This more familiar frame of reference leads your thoughts more towards other aspects of your situation. Things like how your matesprit’s hands feel against your naked skin, and how, once every rotation, she somehow manages to always press her hand to one of your breasts. You consider calling her out on it, but decide not to because, to be frank, you would probably do the same were your situations reversed. If it was Kanaya who was blown up with this, filled to the brim with liquid. If it was you who had to roll her out, down the corridor to the shower block. How would she take it? Would she have screamed and panicked, like you did? Would she have tried to maintain her composure, but eventually broken down into tears?

Would she have tried to touch herself?

Fuck, where did that thought come from? Why are you thinking about masturbation at a time like this? You are literally a giant sphere being rolled down a hallway, what part of any of this would be sexy?

That train of thought comes to an abrupt halt along with your physical form. Looking up (that is to say, to the side), you can see that you’ve reached your destination. With one final roll, Kanaya pushes you into the shower block, with your head coming to rest above your body. You can hear her breathing heavily behind you – pushing a normal person that far would be enough of a feat as-is, but you strongly suspect you’re a lot heavier than you usually are.

“Do you need to rest?” you ask her.

She huffs repeatedly, mildly hyperventilating. “Yes, but…” She takes a few more moments to catch her breath. “This is… this is not a situation where my own needs come first.”

…

You love your matesprit.

Still, you pause – not to consider her words, but merely to let her catch her breath a bit more. You know she’d refused if you told her explicitly. During this pause, you look down at her hands and notice that they’re covered in a blue liquid, one whose color looks suspiciously like your skin.

“What’s that on your hands?” you inquire.

She looks down at them. “It. Uh. Leaked out of you during the rolling,” she explains, her eyes returning to meet yours. “There may or may not be a trail of it down the hallway.”

Huh. So the seal isn’t perfect. You don’t know why you ever thought it was – the human body is quite obviously not designed to keep that amount of liquid inside of it – but still, it’s somewhat shocking.

“Do you know what it is?” you ask.

“Um,” she stammers, her eyes darting around the room. “I have a hunch; but it is stupid.”

“Kanaya,” you say, attempting to sound monotone and only slightly succeeding, “in the span of three minutes, I transformed from a perfectly normal human woman into a giant blue sphere with a head. I think we’re well past the point of only considering sane ideas.”

“Well…” she says, reluctantly. “I will have to check first.”

“Check what?”

Kanaya raises one of her fingers to her mouth and sticks it in, sucking on it. Her eyebrows furrow, and she releases the finger, now devoid of the blue fluid. She chuckles for half a second.

“I can’t believe I was right. This is so stupid.”

“Well?” you prompt her. “Don’t leave me in suspense. What exactly is it that’s clogging up my body?”

“It’s, uh… blueberry juice.”

…

Blueberry juice.

Really?

You burst out laughing. But this is not a laugh of shock and depression, like it was before. No; this is a laugh of pure mirth, and you’re grinning from ear-to-ear.

When you come down from your high, you notice that Kanaya looks incredibly perplexed by your sudden mod shift. To be honest, you kind of are, too.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worriedly.

“Yes, just…” you pause to take a breath. “I can’t believe Dahl was right…”

“Who is Dahl? Are they some kind of religious figure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, looking down at your spherical form in a new light. “But I guess I’m a blueberry now; round, blue and filled with fluid. So I guess there’s only one thing we can do: let’s juice me.”

Kanaya doesn’t need to be told twice.

She hurls her entire body at you, squeezing you up against the nearest wall. She almost bounces off, but her feet find purchase on the tiled floor below, and she begins to push her way forward. You’re wedged against her tightly, and you can feel the juice inside of you moving around. As the amount of space inside you gets smaller and smaller, the fluid starts looking for anywhere it can go. It rushes up you, and you feel a wave saturate your near-subsumed arms and head, deepening their blue tint. Finally, the juice has nowhere else to go, and the pressure starts rising, and rising, and rising. You feel your skin tighten, struggling to stay intact, and you feel like you might burst. Literally.

“Kanaya, st-”

But before you can finish your sentence, the juice finds an easier way out. About half a liter of the stuff explodes out of your mouth and right onto Kanaya, absolutely drenching her top half. She recoils backwards, releasing the pressure on you, and the flow of juice stops. She looks down at her clothes, stained blue by your discharge, and sighs.

“Well this isn’t going to come out.”

While your matesprit fusses over her dress, you stop and consider the taste in your mouth. Kanaya wasn’t lying – it really is blueberry juice, and it’s the best you’ve ever tasted. And now that you have had a taste of it, you can’t help but notice that it’s been there for a while; at least since Kanaya started to roll you. You just didn’t notice because, presumably, it came in gradually as you inflated, and then your brain tuned it out as a constant factor; kind of like how you can’t smell your own distinct scent because it’s always there, wherever you go, because you’re the one emitting it.

In any case, now that you know that the juicing won’t burst you, you’re eager to get back to it; to try and get back to normal as soon as possible.

“Kanaya?” you ask, trying to get her attention.

Her head snaps up. “Right. Sorry.”

Once again she presses herself against you, but this time more slowly, with the pressure building up over time.  And once again, just as your skin gets uncomfortably tight, juice begins pouring out of your mouth; but this time, Kanaya’s prepared. She doesn’t flinch away when the juice hits her – instead she pushes further into you, pushing out more and more of the fluid by the second.

As the pressure once again increases, the juice starts looking for other holes to escape from – and it finds them. With one last push from Kanaya, juice starts pouring out of your two lower holes – your vagina and your asshole.

It feels… strange. Not in the way this entire situation feels strange, but in the conflicting messages you’re receiving from the area. On the one hand there’s discomfort, a prevailing sense of wrongness; this isn’t something that’s normal, and your body doesn’t know what to do. But on the other hand, you can’t help but notice that the whole procees feels kind of… nice. The way the fluid presses against your vaginal walls, and the occasional stream that flicks against your clitoris. If your mouth wasn’t similarly overflowing with juice, you think you’d be moaning right now.

You don’t know how you feel about that fact.

Kanaya’s advance relents and she pulls back. You take a few deep breaths, panting from some unknown exertion, and Kanaya does the same. After a few seconds you cast your eyes down at yourself.

You can see your arms again.

You try and move them, and find that they have indeed been partially freed from their fleshy prisons, as have your legs. You’re still significantly bloated, and your thighs and upper arms are still firmly locked in place, but you’re making progress.

“Ready?”, Kanaya asks, and you nod.

And so the cycle continues. Kanaya pushes up against you, and the juice filling your body evacuates through your mouth, pussy, and asshole. You’re sexually stimulated as the juice leaves through your vaginal canal, occasionally tickling your clit. Kanaya pulls back to take a breather. Repeat.

The stream from your mouth cuts off first. There’s not enough juice left in your body to retain a significant amount in that area, and so the downpour that’s been ruining Kanaya’s dress comes to a halt. This is excellent news – you’re making real, tangible progress, and the end of this traumatic ordeal is in sight.

Unfortunately, that means that there’s nothing muting your moans anymore.

You can see Kanaya blushing in front of you -  your body’s proportions are almost back to normal, and she once again comes up to your head’s height. You can tell she’s trying her best to ignore the sounds you’re making.

Fortunately, the streams emanating from your two lower holes quickly follow your mouth in drying up, and so the moaning promptly ceases.

Unfortunately, there’s still juice inside you.

Kanaya squeezes harder and harder around your midriff, trying to get the juice out. Your body’s back to the shape it was in before the inflation, but clearly something has changed. She keeps squeezing and squeezing, shrinking your waist even further, until she has your entire midriff enclosed by her two hands.

Huh.

Two hours ago, you would’ve called this sight physically impossible, but after being filled with so much juice that you had to be rolled down a hallway, you really can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the sight before you.

“I think that’s a pretty clear indicator that we should stop,” you tell her.

Kanaya releases you from her embrace, and your waist springs back to its normal proportions, screwing with your balance and knocking you to the floor. You catch yourself with your arms, then push yourself up against the wall, resting your back against it as you sit down.

You examine your mostly-naked body. Your skin is still flushed blue, although not nearly as deeply as it once was. You move your hips size-to-side, and you can still hear a small amount of liquid sloshing about inside you.

“I guess…” you say, dejectedly; “I guess we’re not getting it all out then.”

Kanaya sits down next to you, the black of her shirt and the red of her skirt now indistinguishable beneath the coating of juice. “No, it would appear not.”

“Does that mean… is this permanent?” you wonder, looking down at your blue hands. “Am I going to be blue and slightly juicy forever?”

Kanaya puts her hands on her cheeks and forces you to look her in the eye, her expression serious. “Don’t think like that. We will find a way to restore you.”

“You don’t have any evidence-“

“Rose,” she interrupts. “After what else has happened today, it seems ludicrous to dismiss the possibility of a full restoration merely because it may be unlikely.”

Damn her, turning your own words against you like that.

“We have three gods on this meteor, two people who can see into the future, and one time traveler. If there is a way, we will find it.”

“Kanaya…” you say, tears welling up in your eyes.

“And even if it is irreversible, I want you to remember one thing.”

She pecks you on the lips.

“And that is that you are my matesprit.”

She pecks you again, longer this time.

“I don’t care if you’re white, or grey, or blue. I love you for who you are, Rose. I love your sharp wit and your learned mind. If your smiles are framed by blue cheeks from now on I do not care.” ****

She kisses you more fully now, tilting her head and closing her eyes. Tears start to escape your eyes, and your lips tremble.

“I love you.”

With that declaration, you break down. Blue tears flood from your eyes, you press your head into your matesprit’s shoulder, and you sob.

* * *

You still scream every morning, just after waking up and seeing your blue hands. It always wakes Kanaya up. You feel guilty about it - she insists it’s fine, but you can see in her eyes that she’d very much like at least another hour of rest. So you wave her off, getting out of bed and leaving the room so she can try and sink back into her recuperacoon.

You wander the soundless hallways, taking random turns, not really caring where you’re going. Every now and then you stare down at your hands, or close one eye and focus on your nose. No matter how many times you look, they’re still flushed a deep, vibrant blue. It makes you realize that you’re not human anymore – not really. In the grand infinity of paradox space, you share your identity with no-one.

You are alone.

* * *

As times goes on, you start discovering things about your new body. That unnatural compression Kanaya demonstrated at the end of your first juicing is reflective of a wider increase in flexibility. You can put your legs behind your head with ease, you can ball yourself up to fit into incredibly tight spaces, and you can bend yourself in half. Kanaya calls it “extreme contortion”, and you can’t help but notice the jade stains that appear on her skirt whenever you do it.

Perhaps your condition isn’t all bad, after all.

One major annoyance, though, is juicing. It seems that your body is constantly producing more juice, so once every five-to-seven days you have to get Kanaya to squeeze juice out of you again, lest you become a giant blueberry sphere again. Some days it goes by without incident, and some days you’re a sobbing, emotional wreck afterwards.

The process is also starting to bring you orgasms. You don’t know how you feel about this development.

* * *

It’s looking increasingly likely that you’ll be stuck as a blueberry for the rest of your life. Nothing the others have tried has worked to even clear your skin of the blue tinge, let alone stop the juice regenerating afterwards.

In light of this revelation, you’ve been trying to get back into some things you’d put on hold ever since that initial inflation. You’ve started knitting again, as well as writing, and you’ve even started turning up to some of the community activities Karkat has been putting on in the common room. If this is your life now, you’re not going to let your condition dictate terms to you.

And yet, there’s one thing that you still haven’t done since the incident. One thing that you’re still reluctant to attempt, even after all this time.

And that is touching yourself.

You’ve tried in the past, oh how you’ve tried. But every time you reach down to your crotch, your eyes catch sight of your blue hands, reaching to stroke an azure clit, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. It just doesn’t feel right.

But if you’re going to be a blueberry for the rest of your immortal life, you’re going to have to overcome whatever mental obstacle’s blocking you here. Quite frankly, you miss orgasms. Sure, you’re getting off increasingly often during juicing, but those don’t feel the same. They feel utilitarian, bland and lacking depth; lacking fire.

And so today, when you reach down to touch your clit, you try your hardest to suppress the feeling of wrongness pervading your mind, and your hand makes contact.

Okay. Step one complete.

You start rubbing, drawing small circles around it with the tip of your ring finger, and rest your head back on the pillow of your bed. Okay. You’re doing it. You’re masturbating, in exactly the same way as you did before the change.

So why doesn’t it feel nice?

You groan, frustrated. Have you forgotten how to get yourself off? Are you going to have to start from scratch?

No, that can’t be it. You can feel your finger moving around that sensitive nub, and there’s definitely something there, you can feel it. It’s just not translating properly into the pleasure you’re used to.

Now you’re curious. You sit back up and look down at yourself, at your blue finger flicking and circling your clit, and furrow your brow.

Maybe it’s a mental thing. Maybe you need a sexy image in your head first, before you start trying to get off.

Actually, now that you think about it, that makes a lot of sense. You can’t believe that you forgot to fantasize about something.

So your mind wanders, searching for something sexy to think about, and it immediately lands on Kanaya Maryam. Kanaya, your matesprit, the person who means more to you than anything else in the world.

You imagine her slowly, teasingly, turning away from you and taking off her shirt, and then her bra, the whole time hiding those wonderful breasts from your view. Then she unbuckles her skirt and pulls that down, too, giving you a marvelous view of her panty-clad rear end. She takes those off too and then, tantalizingly slowly, she turns around, revealing her nakedness to you. Her nipples are erect, standing at attention. Her bulge is unsheathed, wriggling in the air, looking for something to latch on to. Her hands are clasped behind her back, subtly sticking her breasts out further. And her face is covered in a warm smile, her expression one of compassion, arousal, and absolute, unyielding love.

You kiss her, blue lips pressed to black, your arms wrapped around each other. Your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You poke and prod at your matesprit’s razor-sharp teeth, fascinated by how different they are to your own. She delves deep, covering as much surface as possible, gathering up juice. She’s never been shy about admitting how delicious she finds your juice, and her actions very much back up her assertion.

She breaks the kiss and moves to undress you. Your shirt goes first, revealing inch after inch of smooth blue skin. She removes your bra, freeing your blueberry breasts from their confines, and she leans down to suck on a nipple. Your hands wrap around her head and you moan out your pleasure, encouraging her to keep going. As she sucks, a small amount of juice starts escaping from your nipple, and her sucking increases in intensity. You pet her hair, moaning her name, as she sucks out so much juice that the blue tint upon your breast gets ever-so-slightly lighter. She pulls back, a satisfied grin on her face, and you kiss her again. You can taste your juice on her lips and on her tongue, and you both moan and swallow the stuff down. You remove your hands from her head to wriggle out of your pants, and then your underwear, the both of you now fully naked and pressing against each other; blue skin pressed to grey, all the way down your bodies.

Kanaya pushes you, and you fall backwards onto the bed behind you. You lay there, splayed out and exposed to her gaze, as she takes you in.

“You are so beautiful, Rose.”

She kneels down and nestles her head between your thighs, meeting your gaze between the azure valley formed by your breasts.

“You’ve been so withdrawn ever since the incident. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

She licks you once, and your breath catches in your throat.

“I just want you to be able to see the beauty I see in you.”

She plants a kiss to your clit, and you moan.

“I want you to love yourself just as much as you love me.”

And with that, she dives in, attacking your pussy with a fervor, a zeal, that leaves you gasping between breathy moans. That tongue, ever-so-skilled and exploring familiar terrain, knows just how to twist, precisely when to penetrate, and exactly where to lick to leave you breathless, causing you to wrap your blue hands around her horns and pull her further inwards. It’s blissful, what she can do down there. But she’s not just doing this to please you, you note between lust-addled thoughts. She’s also tasting you, drinking of you, extracting the juice that permeates your body and swallowing it down, taking it into herself; it’s abundantly clear through both her actions and her words that she delights in the taste of you. You can see the blueberry juice framing what little of her mouth you can see, and as she swallows another sampling of the liquid, you see her eyes close in gastronomic bliss. That look, right there, shoots a bolt of arousal through your system. You take a nipple between your fingers and begin pinching and prodding, moaning out Kanaya’s name as you near your climax…

And she pulls away, a knowing smirk on her face as she does so. You groan, but you release her horns from your grasp nonetheless. She stands up, giving you a lovely view of her perfectly-framed breasts and full view of her unsheathed Jade bulge, more desperate than ever for stimulation.

And you plan of providing it just that.

Kanaya moves forwards, leaning over you, placing her arms to either side of your shoulders, and lines up her bulge with your pussy. But…

“Wait,” you say, placing a hand on her overhanging shoulder, and her eyes snap to yours. “Use the other hole.”

Kanaya nods and shifts her hips slightly, re-aligning herself with your rear entrance. Once she’s in position, she looks to you for confirmation.

“Do it,” you reply.

Her bulge prods at your asshole, gently coaxing the sphincter open, slowly working its way in. 

This is what you adore the most about anal sex with Kanaya – she doesn’t force her way in. Instead she pokes and prods, moving slowly, asking your body permission to enter – a permission you eagerly give. It’s so different from a dildo, which just forces its way inside you. It makes you feel warm inside – you’re in control, you dictate the terms. But most of all, it makes you feel truly loved. At every step, her bulge gives you ample chance to reject it, to cast it out and seal yourself off; but you stay relaxed, at ease, and allow it passage.

You smile a smile of genuine, unfiltered happiness up at your matesprit – one that she eagerly returns.

She reaches the halfway point, making it past the initial canal and into the more open space of your rectum, finally allowing the tip to writhe around as much as it desires. It rubs against your walls, at open air, and at the ring of flesh ensnaring the rest of her bulge, leaving you both gasp at the sensations. Her arms give way and she collapses atop you, jade-grey against blue, as she wraps her arms around you, pressing your breasts into each other. Her mouth finds yours, and once again they meet in an oral embrace. Once again you can taste yourself on her – the sweet taste of blueberries permeates your lover’s mouth, leftover from her earlier oral ministrations – and you moan into her. One of your hands reaches down to your crotch, furiously fingering yourself and thumbing your clit in time with Kanaya’s writhing. Your other arm wraps around your matesprit, holding her close as her bulge fully sheathes itself inside of you. It’s wriggling erratically, chaotically, touching places inside you that you never knew existed until she came along and showed them to you. Occasionally, your fingers and her bulge tip press against the same wall of flesh from different directions, and whenever that happens you moan loudly and hug your matesprit tighter. It’s so nice – not just the wonderful cocktail of physical pleasure from your ass, pussy, and mouth, but the emotional connection you share with your lover. You can see it in her eyes; adoration, admiration, and an absolute, undying passion for you. She loves you so, so much, more than mere words can describe; the same as you feel for her.

It’s that thought that sends you over the edge, your asshole clenching around her and your thumb furiously rubbing your clit, as you scream out her name and your vision fills with stars.

When you come down, you find yourself half-naked and lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You look down at yourself, and note the blue stain upon your bedsheets suspiciously close to your crotch.

That was… an incredibly vivid fantasy.  It all felt so real – your matesprit’s embrace, the feel of her bulge penetrating your rectum – it’s almost as if it actually happened.

Wait.

This is your seer powers at work, isn’t it? That was a vision, not a fantasy.

So, in the very near future, you’re going to be having incredibly intimate sex with your matesprit? And you’re going to get off to her intense love for you, a love not only fueled by the deep, intimate emotional connection that the two of you share, but also a love fueled by you being a blueberry?

Alright. You can get behind having blue skin and the occasional juicings if it means sex that good. And who knows, maybe after doing that for real you truly will feel comfortable in your body – you know that even just experiencing it as a vision has made you more content when you gaze down at your blueberry form; beyond the azure mounds of your breasts, past the outward flare of your hips, and down your shapely legs.

And besides, imagine the look on John and Jade’s faces when you finally see them again. It’ll be absolutely priceless. You hope Dave takes pictures.

**Author's Note:**

> Submit your Homestuck TF prompts over at [our Tumblr!](http://transformationstuck.tumblr.com/)


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